


Locked Up

by avislightwing



Series: Locked Up [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Captured by the Enemy trope, Fluff, Mobster!Rhys, Multi, Secretary!Lucien, Silly, and i love her, feyre is my trash daughter, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/pseuds/avislightwing
Summary: In which Rhys steals things, Tamlin's a dick, and Feyre and Lucien make out. Complete self-indulgent fluff.





	Locked Up

“Rhysand, I am going to _kill_ you,” Lucien hissed into the phone receiver.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” Rhys said, not sounding very sorry at all. “Listen, I’ll pay your bail as soon as I can. Relax. Everything will be fine. I got this.”

“You’d better. You hear me, Rhys? You’d better get me the fuck out of –” Lucien swore violently as the phone went dead. “Fine!” he snapped at it, knowing Rhys couldn’t hear him anymore. “Be an asshole! Let me rot in here! See if I care!” And he slammed the receiver back into its cradle.

Stupid old-fashioned phone. Stupid hick jail. Stupid boyfriend who didn’t bother to let him know his fancy car was _stolen_.

“Done in there?” It was the sheriff – his name badge said _Tom Lint_ – watching Lucien’s every move. Even more hick than this hick town, with his blond hair and his belligerent attitude and his blustering, as if he’d punch Lucien’s lights out if he set so much as a toe out of line.

“Guess so,” Lucien snarled, storming past the sheriff and into the holding cell himself. In retaliation, the sheriff slammed the door so hard that Lucien fell backwards. Then Sheriff Lint stalked off in a huff.

“Whoa. Careful, there.” Lucien yelped as someone caught him before he could hit the concrete floor and set him on his feet.

“And who are you?” he sniped, brushing dust off his sleeves.

“The name’s Feyre.” Lucien turned around to face a young woman with a spattering of freckles, brown hair coming free from a braid, and a frown. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. “And you might say thanks.”

Lucien gave a grunt that might be interpreted as such, and sat down against a wall. “Lucien. What’re you in here for?”

“Petty theft.” Feyre sat down on the edge of one of the cots stuck haphazardly into the cell and gnawed on one of her thumbnails. “Cops caught me red-handed. You?”

“Implicated in car theft,” Lucien said, another stab of frustration shooting through him at the thought. “Because my idiot boyfriend thought it was a good idea to give me a _stolen car_. God. I could kill him right now.”

“I need to get me a boyfriend like that.” Feyre snickered. “He gave you an entire car?”

“A stolen one,” Lucien reiterates. “A fact about said car I was not aware of until I was pulled over in this hick town and arrested for possession of stolen property.”

“Was it a nice car?”

“Fancy. Went really fast. Rhys spray-painted a silhouette of a naked woman on the back bumper. I was taking it out for a joyride down the coast.”

“He sounds like a real charmer. Bet you could turn him in and they’d let you go.” Feyre spat the offending fingernail onto the floor and laid back on the cot.

Lucien snorted. “Not only do I not want to turn my boyfriend in, you think that asshole who threw me in here would just let me go?”

“Huh?”

Lucien held one of his deeply brown hands in front of Feyre’s face and wiggled the fingers.

“Oh, yeah.” Feyre let out a gusty sigh. “I’d still rather be in your shoes. This is the third time I’ve been arrested. Don’t think I’m getting off on a few hours of community service this time.”

“You’ve been caught stealing shit three times? You’d think you’d have learned.”

“Fuck off,” Feyre snapped. “Some of us don’t have rich boyfriends to give us Lamborghinis. Some of us are trying not to starve.”

Lucien fell silent. “Sorry,” he said at length. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I have people to support. They probably think I’m dead. Not that they’d care.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure that’s not true,” Lucien protested.

“Trust me. It is.”

“And you don’t have a boyfriend coming to pick you up, a pretty girl like you?” Lucien persisted. He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to make her feel better or make her punch him. Either one sounded appealing right at the moment.

“Just the sheriff, who’s been hitting on me nonstop since he tossed me in here,” Feyre said with a grimace. “Kinda glad he arrested you too. Now if he tries it again I can shove you at him instead.”

“Who, Pocket Lint?” Lucien grinned. “I can flirt with him, if you want. Make him as uncomfortable as he’s making you.”

“Seems a little like playing with fire.”

“Hey, I’m already in the frying pan,” Lucien said. “Besides, if he touches me, Rhys will kill him.”

“Who _is_ this boyfriend of yours?”

“Pretty sure he’s a mob boss. Never actually asked outright,” Lucien admitted. “But he once literally shot someone for hurting me.” He pointed at the scar over his eye. “So, like, I’ve always assumed it’s something like that, what with the stolen cars and the briefcases of cash and the shotguns.”

Feyre whistled. “You live a wild life.”

“Sounds like you could use a bit more of that,” Lucien said casually. “When we get out of here, want to come with?”

Feyre’s face turned a blotchy red. “I can’t. My – family. There’s nobody to take care of them but me.”

“I bet Rhys could help with that. He’s loaded. If you really wanted to go to NYC. You could live with me. I have a penthouse on 5th Avenue.” Lucien’s eyes swept over her in a quick motion. The blotchy blush of hers was actually pretty cute.

“Overlooking Central Park?” Feyre said, her defensiveness melting a little.

Lucien grinned, then joined her on the cot. “The very same. Rhys pays for it – I would never be able to afford something like that on a secretary’s salary. Gave me these, too.” He hooked his long, kinky hair behind his ears to display diamond studs. “Don’t tell Pocket Lint, but they’re probably stolen as well. Rhys loves giving stupidly ridiculous gifts. I hate it.” Well, he didn’t _really_ hate it. Only occasionally, when the gift was a little too overtly sexual or a little too illegal. “I’m going to have to have a talk with him about not giving me stolen shit. I don’t want this to happen again. Though,” he added, as if an afterthought, “I met you. So it’s not all bad.” And he gave her the smirk that always made Rhys melt into a puddle.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Feyre said, suddenly all stony stares and prickles once again.

“No,” Lucien hurried to say. “Of course not. That would be –”

“Too bad,” she interrupted. “’Cause it’s working.”

Lucien blinked. “Really?”

She grinned. “Really. Though I have to wonder what your boyfriend would say about it.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Lucien said, imagining Rhys’s face when he met Feyre. He couldn’t decide whether it would be more satisfying if Rhys fell head-over-heels for the girl or if he was utterly shocked and slightly annoyed with Lucien. Either way, he wouldn’t be mad. And Rhys deserved to be a bit annoyed, after this fiasco. Maybe that would make him think twice next time about accidentally getting Lucien arrested.

Feyre made a thoughtful sound. “You know what I bet would annoy Sheriff Pocket Lint even more than you hitting on him?”

“What?”

“Him coming in here to find us making out.”

Lucien’s expression blossomed into a smile. “I like you, Feyre,” he pronounced. “Would you like to kiss me?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask.” And then Feyre’s hands were tangled in his hair, her lips on his, hot and seeking. Lucien had the passing thought that perhaps she hadn’t been kissed in a while, because she was drinking in his lips like they were water and she was dying of thirst.

“Hey – _hey!_ Break it up in there!”

Lucien grinned in delight against Feyre’s mouth. Sure enough, there was the sheriff, right on cue. Feyre ignored his order, instead throwing one leg over Lucien’s so she could sit in his lap and kiss him more thoroughly.

Lucien could hear the sheriff swearing, then, suddenly his footsteps receding. But he dismissed that little detail as unimportant compared to the fact that Feyre had just taken it into her head to start tugging on his hair, and that felt really good.

“Lucien Kelly,” a slow voice drawled. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Lucien jumped, pulled away from Feyre’s impatient mouth. “Rhys!” he said gladly. “Finally! Where have you _been?_ ”

Rhys examined his fingernails. “Bribing people, mostly. Driving. You’re lucky I was in the same state.”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to pin this on me. This one’s your fault,” Lucien said immediately. “Also, do I get my car back?”

“I fear I’ll have to get you another. One that’s perhaps slightly less stolen.” Rhys’s expression finally melted into the affectionate smile Lucien knows so well. “Who’s your friend?”

“Ah. Um, Rhys, this is Feyre. Feyre, this is Rhys, my boyfriend.”

Feyre swung herself off of Lucien’s lap and shook Rhys’s hand through the bars of the holding cell. “Pleasure to meet you. Hope you don’t mind me making out with your boyfriend.”

“Not at all,” Rhys said with an elegant flip of his hand. “You coming with?”

Feyre hesitated, glanced back at Lucien. “Well, Lucien did invite me. But my family, I can’t –”

“I can take care of it,” Rhys interrupted. “I owe little Lucien for getting him locked up.”

Lucien gestured encouragingly at Feyre, who finally turned back to Rhys. After another moment or two of looking conflicted, she nodded slowly. “I think… I’d like that. Does he really have a penthouse on 5th Avenue?”

“Overlooking Central Park,” Rhys assured her, with a twinkle in his eye that Lucien knew meant this girl had charmed him already. “If you stay there, one of the perks is that you can make out with Lucien whenever you both feel like it.”

Feyre scrutinized him, her eyes narrowing. “And you?”

Rhys swept her an elegant bow, looking very out of place in the dusty jail. “And I the servant to you both. We’ll see what else.” He gave her a cheeky wink, which made her blush blotchily again and Lucien groan and roll his eyes.

“Get us out of here first,” Lucien said. “And then we’ll see about any of that. You owe me, Rhys.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rhys said airily, unlocking the cell with keys he’d probably stolen from Sheriff Pocket Lint’s belt. “Champagne and oysters on my yacht to make up for it?”

“You have a yacht?” Feyre blurted.

“Rhys, how many times have I told you to stop blatantly displaying your wealth to impress pretty girls?” Lucien scolded, walking out of the cell. “Feyre, ignore him. He’s intolerable.”

“Yeah. Stop showing off.” Feyre stuck her tongue out at him as she followed Lucien. Though from the way she winked at him, mirroring his from just a few moments ago, Lucien had a feeling they would be the ones who were intolerable before long.

“Well, we’d better be going,” Rhys said brightly, tossing the keys onto a nearby desk and leading the way out of the jail. “New York awaits us once more. By the way, Lucien, what _were_ you doing here?”

“What, a guy can’t blow off steam in his stolen car once in a while?” Lucien said, offended. “Or maybe I knew Feyre was here and planned all of this from the start. Which one sounds more plausible?”

“Well, the next time you want to blow off some steam, take me with you to pay off any small-town sheriffs who might need paying off,” Rhys instructed.

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” Feyre said from the door. “You promised New York.”

“Coming, Feyre darling,” Rhys said immediately, and Lucien smiled.

Maybe he should get Rhys to give him stolen cars more often.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can also be found on my tumblr at birdiethebibliophile!


End file.
